


Down Virginia Way

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [57]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Gen, Hunter AU, Hunters & Hunting, Shifters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: Bull and Johnny, hunting partners, are sent to investigate a shifter.
Relationships: Johnny Martin & Bull Randleman
Series: What We Do In The Dark [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	Down Virginia Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/gifts).



_Harry quirked a brow. “Well, Johnny and Bull just finished up with a shifter case.”_

_Dick leaned further over the counter and dropped his voice “It wasn’t…him…was it?”_

_“No, it wasn’t. It was some scrawny kid from Virginia.”_

_Dick frowned. “Did they take him out?”_

From “It’s a Date,” Part 12 of What We Do In The Dark

* * *

Bull bit down on his unlit cigar and squinted down into the valley. Below them lay the sleepy little town of Ashwood, Virginia, population 1,301. Settled between the rolling green hills, thick with trees and grass, was a collection of peaked roofs huddled together charmingly, in the way you’d find in a Norman Rockwell painting. He pulled the cigar from his mouth, letting it hang between his thick fingers. “This can’t be right.”

Johnny leaned against the front of their silver Chevy pickup, arms crossed squarely over his chest. He shrugged. “You got the same message from Harry that I did.”

Bull shook his head. “There ain’t been any murders.”

“That we know of. Look, Harry said there’s a shifter in these parts. You know how they can be. Look around us, Bull. Just because no one’s found a body doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

And yeah, Bull knew that Johnny had a point. The rural hills of Virginia could hide all sorts of things.

* * *

John Pierce, real estate manager, had been the one to make the initial report. Not the one that showed up in the paper, mind, but the _real_ first report. The report in the paper, brought to Harry’s attention, had been made by a man named Seth Rockhill, who claimed that in the forests surrounding Ashwood, there roamed a man who could change himself into an animal at will. In the picture accompanying the story, Rockhill was dressed in jeans and a pressed white shirt, and wore a shocked but earnest look on his weathered face. 

After hearing about the article, Harry had put a line out in the hunter community and Bull and Johnny had been the ones to pick up. It might be a mistake—people saw all sorts of things in the woods in rural America—but then it might not be. All sorts of things _did_ run around in the woods of rural America. So, after assuring Harry that they’d take the job, the two of them had hopped into their truck and headed for Virginia.

Now, after the sun had set and they’d rented a couple rooms at the only motel in town, Johnny took a drink of his beer before he took aim at the dartboard on the far, wood-paneled wall. He threw a dart, intentionally missing the center. Around him, a group of local guys hollered and shouldered closer for their turn. At the bar, Bull was finishing a burger and chatting it up with the bartender. Bull turned to catch his eye, just slightly, and shook his head in the negative. So Johnny kept playing. The local guys seemed like a nice enough bunch, but that didn’t mean much to a hunter. _Nice guys_ could kill people too. In fact, they were the ones most likely to. 

Before Bull finished his beer and headed out the door, Johnny had lost ten bucks to the locals, and then another twenty before the round was finished. It always paid to keep the locals happy, even if it irked to lose. 

Back at the hotel, sequestered in Bull’s room, they compared notes on what they’d been able to learn after a night at the local watering hole. 

Johnny paced back and forth, brows furrowed. He cast a glance at his friend. “You sure?”

“Yep.” Bull nodded. “Bartender said that guy Rockhill ain’t even from around here. Some drifter who was just passing through. Spent a lot of time in the bar, apparently.”

“Doesn’t mean his story isn’t true.”

“Well, maybe. But apparently, the locals weren’t too happy about it. I got the feeling they ran him out of here real quick when the paper came out.”

“Why’s that?”

Bull shook his head. “Apparently he was seen with a guy named John Pierce. One of those real estate hawks. I don’t know if you know the type, but back in Arkansas, we seen ‘em all the time. They’d come around to poor people’s farms and try to buy ‘em out so they could build developments or condos or strip malls. Bartender said that guy Pierce was hanging around for a while, trying to get some locals to sell. No takers.”

Johnny stopped pacing and turned to face his friend. “So what are you saying? That the whole thing’s made up?”

Bull shrugged. “Could be. I’ve known some of those real estate guys to stoop pretty low. Maybe he paid Rockhill to make up a story.” He frowned, gazing down at his cigar. “Or maybe he convinced Rockhill to tell a story that the locals wouldn’t.”

“You think they know?”

Bull nodded. “Wouldn’t put it past ‘em. Small town folks can be like that.”

Johnny huffed. “Alright. Change of plans, then. We’re gonna have to do our own recon.”

“What cover do you wanna go with?”

“This is hunting country, isn’t it?” Johnny quirked a brow. “We’re hunters.”

* * *

That’s how they found themselves at the local outdoors supply store the next day, purchasing more ammunition, camping gear, and insect repellant than they’d ever need. It was easier to get people talking if you were giving them money. Johnny leaned against the counter and eyed up the cashier—a younger man—boy really. “So where’s the best place to hunt around here?”

“Uh….” The boy squinted at the cash register for a second, as though doing some math in his head, then looked up, blushing at Johnny’s question. “Uh, sorry. Black Ridge is probably the best. Just out of town. It gets a bit wild out there, though, so make sure you’ve got good GPS.”

“GPS,” an old man grumbled, approaching the counter from behind the two hunters. “In my day, we didn’t have such things. GPS. Locals don’t need it. They know where they’re at.” He eyed Bull and Johnny with disdain. “And if you _weren’t_ local, you had no business huntin’ here. But I suppose some managed, with a compass and a map.”

Bull smirked at the old man, obviously charmed by his gruff nature. “Well, we might not be from around here, sir, but we do, in fact, have a map.”

The old man snorted, apparently amused, and grumbled, “Well, in that case, use it. The boy ain’t wrong. Black Ridge is your best bet. But you go any further west of there, well. That’s all private property. No huntin’, ‘less you live there.”

They both nodded, grabbed their supplies, and Bull said “Thanks for the advice,” as they headed out of the store.

As Bull stowed their purchases in the back of the truck, Johnny climbed up into the driver’s seat. “So. Black Ridge, then headed west?”

Settling into the passenger seat, Bull chuckled. “You read my mind.”

* * *

The kid at the store had been right, at least: Black Ridge _was_ a good place to hunt. There were plenty of deer roaming the hills and it would’ve been quick work to bag a couple and head out. Only, they weren’t really hunting _deer._ So instead, they simply pretended to be taking their time. They set up camp at a spot near the western edge of the ridge and spent the next two days hiking, slowly making longer forays into the territory the old man had warned them about. Occasionally, they came across another hunter or two, who tipped their hats in greeting and wished them luck. In general, people were nice. They just didn’t _share_ much.

After two days of hiking and no new information, they made their way back into town for some food, a shower, and a decent night’s sleep. At the diner, they decided to keep to themselves this time around but keep their ears open for any hint of what might be going on in the town. Johnny was even beginning to think that maybe there was no shifter at all, that the whole thing was made up, but then they overheard a hushed conversation that made him suspicious once more.

A middle aged woman had leaned over to her companion, a woman perhaps a decade older than herself, and she murmured, “So. Did you ask him?”

“You know it ain’t that simple.”

“Sure it is. He’s a good boy. You know he’ll say yes if you ask.”

“I _know_ that. But how am I supposed to say what I need him to do without…you know.”

“Saying it?”

“Exactly.”

“Just tell him you need some help. He’ll figure it out.”

“I feel bad, you know. Imposin’ like this. Especially now. That family’s got enough trouble, what with _that man_ hounding them over their land.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be back. Not after…you know.”

“Well, can you _blame_ him? He did what any one of us would do, if we could.”

“Oh, I know it. Like I said…Shifty’s a good boy.”

Johnny’s brows jumped up his forehead and he turned to look at Bull from across their booth. He mouthed the name _Shifty_ and Bull nodded. They finally had a lead.

* * *

It didn’t take much digging after that to learn that “Shifty” was one Darrell Powers, a twenty year old local whose family lived west of Black Ridge and had done so since before the Civil War. 

Oh, they’d had to wait, and buy lots of rounds at the bar, but once the locals started talking, they couldn’t shut up about the kid. He was apparently a “good boy,” who helped out loads of people and kept some of the local families stocked up on meat. When pressed on just why that was, one young man had just snorted into his beer and said “Well, that’s cuz Shifty’s the best shot out here. And he’s always huntin’.”

Bull and Johnny shared another significant look. Well, they’d have to go hunting a hunter, then.

* * *

They arranged to “wander” into the territory that they’d heard the boy was known to hunt in. To Bull, if felt a bit like walking into a trap, only they’d been the ones to set it. Right? There was no way this Shifty kid, if he was indeed the shifter they were hunting, knew who they were or that they were coming. Still, he couldn’t help but stalk cautiously through the trees and underbrush, eyes scanning for any sign of a living creature. If that guy Rockhill was right and this shifter really _could_ change into an animal, it could be anywhere, watching them right now.

Bull was grateful for the rifles he and Johnny carried, the bullets filled with silver instead of lead. And he was thankful for the silver blades they wore strapped to their ankles. Even then, though, it didn’t feel like enough.

They were in the woods for about five hours before they were startled out of their hunt by the sound of a soft, melodic voice hollering “Hello, there! Hunter on your right!” They turned and saw a young man emerge from the trees. They hadn’t noticed his approach. He was a medium height, willowy, with reddish brown hair, a friendly smile, and golden eyes. He carried a hunting rifle propped against his shoulder. As he reached them, he asked “You fellas lost?”

Bull and Johnny shared a look—it had been a long time since either of them had been snuck up on—and they knew they’d found their shifter. Shifty, presumably.

Johnny put on a smile and turned toward the kid. “Uh…Black Ridge, right?”

The newcomer laughed easily. “Oh boy, you fellas are a couple miles off. How long have you been out here?”

Bull glanced down at his watch. “Guess it’s been more than a few hours. Wandered too far, Johnny.”

“That’s alright,” the kid said, “I’d be happy to point you back in the right direction. Where you headed?”

“We’ve got a camp set up just west of town.”

The young man came closer and pointed over their shoulders. “If you head back thataway, and keep going east, you’ll find some familiar ground. I’m sure the two of you are fine hunters, but it’s dangerous in these parts, especially after dark, if you don’t know your way around here.”

Bull smiled indulgently. “Why’s that?”

“Oh, you know.” He waved his hand vaguely, while the other clutched the rifle easily. “Bears, cougars, and the like.”

Johnny snorted. “We thought you might mean locals.”

The boy’s grin widened. “Well, I won’t say there ain’t an old man in these hills who wouldn’t shoot ya for trespassing, but most of the folk around here are friendly enough.” He held out a hand. “I’m Darrell Powers, by the way, though most folks just call me Shifty.”

The two hunters shook his hand easily and introduced themselves in return, before Bull grinned, always so friendly looking despite his size. “Shifty. That’s an interesting name.”

“Yeah.” Shifty’s golden eyes flickered to the side, just for a moment, but long enough for the hunters to tell he was hiding something. “Childhood nickname stuck. That’s how it goes around here.”

“Ah, I thought it might’ve been something else.” Johnny noticed Bull’s hold on his rifle tighten, so he did the same. “You know. Like…maybe you’re a shifter.”

The kid’s golden eyes went flat brown and he jerked his head, nervous laugh bubbling over his lips. “A uh…a what?” He asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister.”

But the eyes had given him away. It was enough. Bull kept his attention while Johnny maneuvered behind him. “We just wanna ask you a few questions, son.”

Shifty’s mouth thinned and he quirked a brow, glancing toward his back. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, fellas.”

“Good, neither do we.” Johnny said, as he drew closer to the shifter.

Shifty frowned. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

“Do what?” But Johnny barely had time to ask before the kid, stronger and faster than they could’ve imagined, spun, wrenching the rifle from Johnny’s hands, and flinging it into the trees. Then he whirled, kicking out, and sent Bull sprawling. By the time the two of them had managed to haul themselves to their feet, Shifty had disappeared through the trees, bounding away faster than a deer. “What the hell was that?” Johnny gasped, still staring into the wilderness.

Bull shrugged. “Guess we found our shifter.”

* * *

“Darrell Powers!” A woman’s voice scolded as they made their way closer to the homestead hidden away in the woods. “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now?”

“It’s fine, mama!” Shifty called back. “I’ve got it handled.” He sat on the steps of his front porch, rifle braced across his knees, as he stared out into the woods. The hunters had a feeling they’d been spotted already.

“What did you do? Was that vile Pierce man back again?”

“No, mama.” Shifty called over his shoulder. “I told you, he won’t be bothering us anymore.”

“Your daddy and granddaddy and great granddaddy didn’t work hard their whole lives and build this place from the dirt just so some rich man from the city could buy it out from under us.”

“I know that, mama. That’s why I had words with him.”

“Words!” A girl’s voice laughed from behind the front door. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Quiet, Lizabeth,” Shifty admonished, presumably to a younger sister. “You go to your room now, you hear? I’ve got some business I’ve got to attend to.” At that, he stood from the steps, rifle held in front of him firmly. “You gentlemen come on out, now!” He called. “I can see the both of you.”

And, well, they believed him, so they obliged.

* * *

They weren’t sure exactly how it’d happened, except that they couldn’t imagine gunning this kid down (he hadn’t really hurt either of them), especially with his family right there. And they could only endure a standoff for so long before that became impractical, too. It was the middle-aged Mrs. Powers who eventually stuck her head out the door, huffed at the sight of them, and scolding, told them all to come inside for a cup of coffee. _But make sure you wipe those boots off, first!_

At first, they’d been wary to sip from the mugs of coffee placed before them by the stern-faced woman, but Shifty just frowned at them and said “My mama is serious about her hospitality. Please.” And hell, they figured, the kid could’ve easily shot them or torn out their throats. It was unlikely they’d die here, poisoned by his mother. 

Bull dipped his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, what’s all this about.”

Johnny squared his shoulders and stared straight at the kid. “You’re a shifter.”

The woman glanced toward her son, eyes narrowed, but kept her silence. Shifty shrugged. “Guess I am.” He fiddled with his own mug of coffee. “And you two?”

“Hunters.” Johnny answered honestly.

Shifty frowned. “Well, me too. But I meant…how did you know?”

Bull shook his head. “Not that kind of hunter.”

“What kind then?”

The two hunters exchanged a meaningful look before Johnny swallowed thickly, and avoiding the woman’s eyes, said “We hunt monsters.”

Her voice was flat when she piped up, then, guessing: “And kill them.”

Shifty shook his head. “I’m not a monster. I ain’t ever hurt anybody.”

“There was a report in the paper,” Johnny continued. “About a shifter in these parts. News like that gets around in the hunter community.”

“There’s more of you?” the woman asked at the same time as Shifty protested “I didn’t hurt that man, either, that John Pierce!” He stood from his seat, agitated, and both hunters tensed. “I just scared him away is all. I lost my temper. He kept coming around here, harassing my mama. Trying to get her to sell our land.” He shook his head, and the hunters were getting a preview of said temper. “But we aren’t selling. Not to nobody. Our family’s been living on this land for near two hundred years.”

“Whoa, there.” Bull said, raising his hands. “Calm down. Why don’t you tell us what happened with Pierce?”

“Nothing much,” Shifty grumbled, blushing, as he settled back into his chair. He ran a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “He got my temper riled, like I said, and he saw me shift. Partially.” Behind him, his mother tsked. He looked like a scolded puppy now, as he raised brown eyes up to his mother. “I bared my fangs at him, mama. And he heard me growl.” He returned his gaze to the hunters. “It was enough to scare him away. I didn’t think he’d tell anybody.”

“The two of you have come here to kill my son. On the word of a wicked man.”

Johnny frowned and Bull rumbled “We came here to do what needed to be done. But we ain’t murderers.”

“I don’t see your distinction.”

“Doesn’t seem like your boy has hurt anybody.”

“I haven’t!” Shifty insisted. “I’d never do that. Not unless I was protectin’ my family.”

“There any other shifters around here?”

“No.” Shifty said, shoulders slumping. “I’m the only one. A throwback to my great great granddaddy. Didn’t take us all too entirely by surprise. The family still tells stories about how old Archie Powers used to be able to change his form during the war.”

The two hunters were quiet, absorbing what they’d learned. Finally, Bull said “We’re not going to hurt your son, Mrs. Powers.”

Johnny cleared his throat and added “But someone might. We’re not the only hunters out there and if we got wind of this, someone else might, too.” At that, the woman frowned down at her son, a worried crease in her brow.

“But I didn’t hurt anybody.” Shifty murmured once more.

“Doesn’t matter.” Johnny shook his head. “Hunter hears about something like this, gotta check it out. You accused us of being murderers, Mrs. Powers,” Johnny said, looking up at her. “But there’s terrible things out there and I’ve seen what they do to innocent people.”

Shifty frowned, leaning forward in his chair. “What kinds of things?”

“Oh, all sorts of supernatural creatures.” Bull murmured. “Vampires, werewolves, wendigos, spirits, demons…. The list goes on and on. When we get a tip, we check it out. Johnny and me? We’re in the business of saving people.”

Shifty frowned, biting his lip as he stared down at his hands pensively. “You really think more hunters are gonna come lookin’ for me?”

Johnny shrugged. “Probably.” He huffed. “You’ve gotta keep a low profile, kid. No more shifting.”

Shifty shook his head. “Can’t help it. It’s who I am.” His voice dropped, almost too soft. “They wouldn’t hurt my mama or baby sister, would they? These other hunters?”

“Normally I’d say no, but every hunter’s different. We’ve all got our own sort of…code.”

“But you could tell the others that I’m no threat, couldn’t you?”

“They might still get curious.”

“Tell them you killed me, then. Tell the other hunters that I’m not here anymore.” He turned to gaze up at his mother and his jaw tightened. “I won’t let anyone hurt my mama.”

Bull and Johnny exchanged another long look at one another and finally Johnny nodded and said “We can do that. We _will_ do that for you. But you’ve gotta lay low. It’d be best if people didn’t see you around here for a while. Give the rumor some truth.”

Shifty nodded, turning back towards them. “I can do that. I…I can go away for a while.” His mother laid a hand on his shoulder. “The folk in town will look after my family while I’m gone.” He glanced up at her. “Don’t you think?”

“I do, baby.” Her hand squeezed. “Don’t you worry about me or your sister. You know we can take care of ourselves.”

Shifty continued to frown. “I’ve never been away from home before. Not for long, I mean.” He bit his lip, brows drawn together. He glanced up at the hunters again. “So you guys go out and save people by hunting things? Really bad things?”

Johnny nodded.

Shifty’s eyes flicked golden once more. “Think I could help?”

Bull snorted. “I’ll bet you could.” He shook his head and Johnny quirked a brow, amazed at what he was hearing. “Hell, Johnny, you think we got room in the truck?”

What the hell, Johnny thought. “Sure, kid. I think we’ve got room for one more.”

Shifty smiled softly, reaching up to wrap his fingers around his mother’s. “Thank you, then. I’ll go get my things.”

* * *

And that was how, on their way out of Virginia, Bull and Johnny found themselves accompanied by the politest, most earnest young man they’d ever met, who just so happened to be a shifter.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are love! Please let me know what you thought :) Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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